


Fairgrounds Sharpshooter

by KarsKars



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Carnival, First Dates, Fluff, JuLance Challenge 2020, Lance and Keith at a fair, M/M, sharpshooter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25521829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarsKars/pseuds/KarsKars
Summary: Lance and Keith spend an evening at the fair. Many carnival games, rides, and snacks later Lance comes to a realization.Excerpt:“Fine.” A slightly gravely, but emotionless, voice deadpanned from the darkness. Lance stared at him in shock. Fine? Fine?? Keith had just - agreed? Just like that? He hadn’t even asked. “Under one condition -” oh here we go Lance thought as he waited for their resident emo to continue. “- I’m not missing the derby.”“Done!” He hastily agreed.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	Fairgrounds Sharpshooter

The school year had just recently kicked off and, even though he’d long since graduated, Lance knew this meant the annual fall fair would be coming to town in a few short weeks. Ever since he and Hunk had moved to this small town, he’d taken to dragging the larger boy along each year. And, while neither of them could really be called “boy” any more, he still felt the excitement of a child bubble up in his chest at the sight of the posters announcing the fair’s impending arrival. 

They had formed a sort of tradition. Once a year Lance would drag Hunk to the fair. He would coax his skittish friend onto every ride they offered, no matter how questionable the structure’s integrity might be. He would haul him from one greasy food vendor to the next, stuffing their faces with funnel cakes, hotdogs, caramel corn, and cotton candy until they made themselves sick. And last but most definitely not least, he would try EVERY YEAR to win the grand prize.

The problem was, every single game was rigged. Hunk told him this each time he paid the two tickets for a game. “Lance, buddy, you’re going to lose.” or “These games are designed to be unbeatable, man.” or his personal favourite “I don’t trust these guys; carnies cheat.” That last one had earned them a few glares from the aforementioned “carnies”.

But Lance didn’t care. He saved up his tips for a whole month with the sole purpose of buying an astonishing amount of tickets. He was going to win that giant grand prize. This was his year. He could feel it!

* * *

“I’m putting my foot down this year.” Hunk said even though (as Lance would like you to note) neither of his feet were currently on the ground. “I’m not spending an entire day’s wages so I can puke on the ferris wheel. And I’m not spending the next three days clogged up from candy apples and deep fried everything. And I’m NOT spending my evening watching you lose over and over again playing rubber duckies. Nope - not this year! Sorry, Lance, find someone else.”

“AwWw BuT HuUnK!!” He whined. There was no one else to go with. Pidge had declared it a death trap and absolutely refused to step foot in a place with that many children. Though she insisted he’d never be allowed back in the apartment if he didn’t bring her back a candy apple - or five. And, though Matt seemed to be a lot of fun, Pidge’s brother wasn’t really part of their group and Lance didn’t know him all that well. Which just left ….

“Fine.” A slightly gravely, but emotionless, voice deadpanned from the darkness. Lance stared at him in shock. Fine?  _ Fine?? _ Keith had just - agreed? Just like that? He hadn’t even asked. “Under one condition -”  _ oh here we go _ Lance thought as he waited for their resident emo to continue. “- I’m not missing the derby.” 

“Done!” He hastily agreed. The smash-up derby was the best part of the whole fair if you asked him. Keith gave him a curt nod, something that was rather hard to see given his penchant for wearing all black and sitting in the shadows, and put his ear buds back in effectively ending any further discussion.

* * *

The first day of the fair was a Thursday and Lance had to work. The second day of the fair was a Friday and Lance had a date scheduled for that night. The third (and final) day of the fair was a Saturday and Keith  _ claimed _ he had to work. Lance was suspicious though because he didn’t actually believe Keith had a job. The guy only ever sat around the library, or his own apartment, or Hunk and Lance’s apartment, or at the local Starbucks. He didn’t seem to work - or sleep for that matter given the permanent bags under his eyes. 

Sure Keith had explained it all away with a flippant wave of the hand and a murderous scowl saying “I make my own schedule” and something about freelance graphic design but, honestly, Lance didn’t believe him. 

Any ways, back to the predicament at hand. Lance had a date scheduled for the only night Keith claimed to be free. A date he had struggled to even get in the first place and now he had to choose between A) Friday night date with Nyma and going to the fair alone on Saturday, B) Friday night date with Nyma and no fair at all, or C) Hopefully reschedule the date and go the fair on Friday with Keith. There was always the hidden fourth option of just taking Nyma to the fair but she insisted that wasn’t a very romantic date. 

So, begrudgingly, Lance decided he would skip his beloved fair this year. As crumby as it was to miss it; it was even crumbier to go alone. This is how he found himself sitting at his reserved table, sipping on a glass of something red (Cabaret Seven-O maybe? Who knows, it’s French and sounded fancy) while he waited for his date to show up. Any minute now.

After an order of crab cakes, two amaretto sours (the wine was fancy but gross), and a whole slew of panicked texts, Lance was sufficiently bummed out. He called for the bill, double checked for any messages from Nyma he may have missed, and decided to call it a night. A crumby, crumby night. 

Because it was only early October, the air was crisp and fresh but still held the warmth of the day. He walked to his car with his head hung low as he text Hunk that he’d be heading back. It was a few blocks from the restaurant to where he’d parked his car, the downtown area being busy on a Friday evening. The night seemed darker than usual but that was probably down to his sour mood. He’d chosen Nyma over the fair and she couldn’t even be bothered to blow him off with a text. Instead she’d just stood him up entirely. Lance kicked his heart along in front of him, debating whether or not to just stomp all over it like Nyma had. The vibration of a text in his pocket pulled him out of his funk.

< Hey - meet me at the fair in 10 >  
< South gate >

It was Keith. Lance had half a mind to message him back and pretend the date was going awesome, they were having a great time, and he wasn’t going to make it. But if Keith was messaging him at all then it meant he was probably with Hunk and he probably knew Lance got stood up. With a sigh he text back his confirmation. The night couldn't get any worse.

* * *

The fair grounds were absolutely packed; Lance could barely find a place to park in all the chaos. Eventually he found an open spot only a block away and started walking towards the south gate entrance. He wasn’t dressed for the fair at all, his beige Banana Republic khakis and navy blue sweater were both fitted and far too nice for this environment. Even his shoes were terribly matched to the upcoming events of the evening. His dark brown penny loafers, which matched perfectly with his leather belt, were not designed for walking through grass and dirt and mud. Jumping quickly to the left, he narrowly avoided stepping in a giant cow pie. 

Lance saw Keith immediately. Even without his signature scowl the guy was quite noticeable. He was leaning against the gate paying absolutely no mind to the people being forced to walk around him and flicking a cigarette into the mud after clearly being told off by the staff. He chosen tight black jeans with a rip on the left thigh and a purposeful hole at the right knee, black converse hightops, and a red flannel shirt that hung loosely open over a plain black tee. His tousled black hair was hanging in front of his face as usual and Lance could just make out the glint of his piercings; black spacers in each ear and twin studs below his lower lip. 

Lance didn’t realize he’d been staring until Keith gave a shy wave and it pulled him back to reality. He shook it off and jogged to catch up to his friend. 

“How was the date?” Keith jabbed at him with a knowing smirk and Lance rolled his eyes. “Need a distraction?” 

Offering up his best and most blinding smile, Lance beamed at him. “Aww Keithy, are you trying to cheer me up?” Watching the blush spread across the other’s face was priceless. 

They made their way into the fair, each paying the small entry fee and buying tickets for rides and / or games. Keith bought a normal amount of tickets; Lance did not. His arms now coiled with row after row of tickets, he let the devious smirk cross his face. This is going to be his year. He’s going to take home that giant stuffed grand prize even if it kills him. And being at the fair with Keith of all people means it very well might.

“Rides or games?” Keith asked, not bothering to take his eyes off the cotton candy stand. 

“Might be hard to take my giant prize on the ferris wheel. So, rides first.” he replied, marching ahead to hand over a ticket at “The Zipper”. Lance climbed up into the cage and waited for the gate to be shut, only for Keith to slide in beside him. “You’re riding with me?” He asked in complete bafflement. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

“It’s just, Hunk NEVER goes on the rides.” Lance responded, embarrassed that he’d assumed Keith would sit them all out as well. It was crazy though, the rides were the best part of the fair; right up there with the derby.

“But the rides are the best part!” Keith voiced as he clearly read Lance’s mind. 

“I KNOW! Oh man, Mullet. We’re gonna have so much fun!” The cage on their car was latched by the attendant and Lance heard the music of the ride start up. His stomach was flipping around wildly at the anticipation of having someone to enjoy the rides with and they hadn’t even gotten started.

* * *

First came Lance’s choice of The Zipper followed by Keith choosing Starship 3000, then the Tilt-A-Whirl … twice, and finally another two rounds on Starship 3000. He was starting to think Keith was intentionally trying to make him puke.

“You good?” The thrill seeker asked, slightly breathless from the ride, and all he could do was offer a thumbs up and a bright smile. Words would mean opening his mouth, and opening his mouth would allow the contents of his stomach to come out. Crab and alcohol did not make a good pre carnival ride dinner. Ugh, slap his ass and call him Hunk - Lance was going to puke.

After dealing with the mounting nausea, Lance made his way back to the ticket booth where he’d left Keith. His abs were tingling and his breath probably smelled terrible but he had no regrets. Lance was so caught up in trying to find the other that the sudden appearance of a red flannel clad arm caught him by surprise and Lance nearly walked face first into the candy apple being thrust in front of him.

“Here.” Keith deadpanned. “They were almost sold out so I grabbed you one.” His own was nearly gone already, and he had a bag with several more stashed away for Pidge and Hunk. It was surprisingly thoughtful of him.

“Thanks man, you didn’t have to do that.” Lance replied, taking the proffered carnival staple and savouring that first bite. Keith just shrugged in response and polished off the remainder of his own, tossing the stick in a nearby garbage bin and reaching into the bag to fish out another. Lance smiled at him as he took a second bite, the sweet caramel mingling with the crisp apple in the best way possible. “So, now what?” He asked between bites. 

Keith’s eyes had been darting around the grounds as if searching for something and Lance’s words seemed to catch him off guard. He blinked a few times in surprise before blushing deeply and darting his gaze away. “Stables?” He mumbled around a mouth full of candy apple and Lance nodded.

They got about as far as the main entry to the pens when Lance noped out. He’d nearly forgotten his own state of dress and there was no way he was about to traipse through mud and poop in his fancy shoes. Nuh uh, no way, not gonna happen. Keith almost seemed to pout at his refusal, turning to glance longingly at the sign offering horse riding for 10 tickets, but snapping out of it almost as quickly. 

The smell of barnyard animals and hay reminded Lance of his grandparents farm. To the right was a pen with a mid-sized pole standing in the middle. Five brown ponies were connected by leads and a swarm of small children buzzed around them. Lance watched a select few be lifted up while the others were corralled out of the way as the ride began, the ponies dragging their hoofs along the well worn circle. 

“Lance - you coming?” Keith called from where he’d turned to head back and Lance shook his head. 

“Maybe just one ride.” The immediate smile told him he’d made the right call. Keith wanted to ride the horses. 

As it turns out Keith is very knowledgeable about horse riding. He is also terrifying. 

He rode with ease, guiding the horse along as if he were a cowboy on the open plains; riding off into the sunset on his trusty steed. Suddenly Keith’s ridiculous mullet suited him much better. Lance hopped on his own horse and trotted along the designated path. Keith had long since deviated from the group and was jumping over barrels and rushing across the length of the enclosure, before trotting back and falling in line beside him. After their ride they were given an apple to feed to their horse before the next group sauntered in. 

“Did you eat?” Lance shook his head at Keith’s question and the boy scowled. “Let’s get some hotdogs.” He’d had some crab cakes at the restaurant but they were now underneath a white pickup truck, along with his wine and amaretto drinks. The sudden awareness of his stomach caused it to rumble and Keith laughed. “And maybe some fries too.” He chuckled, grabbing Lance’s wrist and dragging him through the dense crowd.

The amount of people had increased dramatically; most arriving for the sole purpose of watching the derby in a few hours. They weaved their way through the throngs of people, cutting through lines and dodging excited children as they beelined it for the best hotdog stand there. Sal’s was legendary for their pure beef hotdogs and crinkle cut fries. They had a rich dark gravy that Lance liked to pour over his fries before dousing them in ketchup, salt, and vinegar. Hunk had been appalled; claiming it defeated the purpose of either condiment choice and even going so far as to dub it french fry slop. But Lance didn’t care. The only time he got to enjoy them was at the fair and he was going to enjoy them however he wished.

Keith split them up, sending Lance to get drinks from the vending machine while he ordered the food. It was only after he’d crossed the open space of the vendor area that he realized he’d forgotten to mention how he liked his fries and the line was too long to jump back in. He sighed and made his way back with two bottles of ice cold Dr. Pepper. 

“With or without gravy?” Keith asked him, handing over a large fry with gravy on one side. “I thought we could just share one since it’s cheaper.” He blushed slightly as he said it, grabbing the ketchup bottle and looking at Lance expectantly. 

“Smart.” He agreed with a nod. “And gravy, duh!” Keith chuckled at him and proceeded to smother the entire plate of fries in ketchup. Lance added vinegar to his half and they made their way to one of the picnic tables. 

The hotdog was just as amazing as he remembered. Perfectly juicy and smokey with a nice crunch that reminded him more of a sausage. It came on a toasted bun dressed with melted cheese, diced onion, relish, mustard, and of course ketchup. The crinkle cut fries were wonderfully crisp on the outside and fluffy on the inside, making them the perfect compliment to his hotdog. It may not be fancy French wine and crab cakes but it was darn good. Plus this time he had company.

Keith had already finished his half of the fries and was now digging into the hotdog, rinsing his pallet with a swig of Dr. Pepper first. Lance smiled at him as he watched the boy lick gravy off his fingers and flick a pesky fly away from his meal.

“Affer dis we shud go dry sum gims” Keith mumbled around a mouthful. Lance laughed out a “ _ What?” _ in reply and Keith rolled his eyes, pointedly swallowing. “After this we should go try some games.” He repeated, gesturing dangerously with his hotdog, an onion flying away to safety. He scowled at the escapee laying in the dirt before diving back into his dinner. Lance felt himself smile dumbly back at him.

* * *

The first game they came upon was the Lucky Ducky game. Little yellow rubber ducks floated around and Keith made them stop. He quickly handed over a single ticket and flipped over two of the duckies. He lost. Scowling he stepped back and Lance gave it a try. He also lost. This was supposed to be his year and he was already 0-1. He shook it off, so far he’d been having an amazing night and he wasn’t going to let it get him down. They each played one more round, lost, and moved on to another game. This time it was Ring Toss and Keith almost managed to hook his final ring but it bounced off the top and he sulked as Lance snickered at him. In retaliation, he poked Lance in the side, causing him to also miss his own shot. Neither one got a prize.

It went on like this for game after game. One losing and pestering the other until they also lost. By the time they made it to the water gun game Lance was laughing and giggling alongside Keith; his stack of tickets slowly dwindling as they both plucked away at it. “Bet I can out shoot you” Keith goaded and Lance fell for the challenge hook line and sinker. He plopped down on the small red stool, handing over enough tickets for the both of them, and grabbed the handles of his water gun.

“You’re on mullet.” He accepted and Keith bragged about claiming the red stuffed cat as his prize. Lance watched him take his seat and the buzzer sounded as tiny jockeys raced out from the gate. The cardboard figures wobbled their way across the track as the two boys shot the tiny red targets in front of them. Lance held the gun as steady as possible, staring straight ahead at his target, though he noticed Keith’s eyes darting over in his direction every so often. The bell rang and Lance had won. He chose the red kitty and teasingly danced it in front of Keith’s face. 

Finally, after far too many games, they came across the Shooting Gallery and Lance was giddy with excitement. He’d finally brought enough tickets to work his way to the grand prize and this was the game he was going to do it on. He excitedly grabbed Keith’s elbow, dragging him through the crowd and maybe shoving a few people out of the way in his haste. Slapping down an entire row of tickets, he picked up the mock rifle and took aim.

“Watch and learn Keithy, this is how it’s done.” He boasted and took a deep breath before pulling the trigger. The little target dinged and folded down immediately. Emboldened, Lance focused again, pulling the trigger and watching the target drop. Over and over, ticket after ticket, he dropped targets like flies earning a non negligible amount of small stuffed animals.

After going through a sizeable amount of tickets, Lance started trading in his stuffies. Three small got him one medium and six medium earned him a large. He needed three large for the grand prize and Lance was determined not to stop until he made it. With two large and five mediums already collected, he was nearly there but the game was suddenly getting much harder. The bells and music of the other games were distracting him, the screams of thrill seekers pulled him out of the zone, and the flashing lights all around him made re-focusing much harder.

Lance closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was so close, so close. He heard Keith say something, probably a snarky jab, but the noise drowned it out. He turned to ask him to repeat it and found the other seated directly beside him, an expression of awe on his delicate features as he stared back at Lance. Lance felt his hand shake.

“Come on Sharpshooter, you’re so close.” Keith said, leaning in to ensure his words were heard, and Lance blushed at the moniker. “You got this!” He smiled and Lance’s blush deepened as he smiled back, giving a less than confident nod. 

A deep breath, a tightening of his grip, and a slow opening of his eyes was all it took for him to be back in the zone. This was his game, this was his year, he was the Sharpshooter and he was going to get that grand prize! He pulled the trigger and watched the target drop once again.

* * *

The giant colourful robot man was cumbersome to carry but Lance was so proud of himself. He strapped the prize to his back and followed the blur of red flannel as they made their way to the grandstands for the derby. Keith was excitedly blabbering on about the cars featured this year and how he planned to enter the derby himself. He lamented about not having had his car ready in time for this year’s registration but conceded that it gave him more time to perfect it instead. Lance struggled to catch his words over the din of the crowd and merely nodded at the appropriate times. 

It seemed Keith had scoped out the place earlier and knew exactly where he wanted to sit. With an unfair amount of grace he guided Lance to their spot and settled in. The late evening air was getting chilly now that the sun had fully set and Lance felt himself shiver slightly as a strong breeze whipped the hair from his neck. He turned to adjust the stuffed robot and noticed Keith climbing the steps with two cups of hot chocolate and a hideous bright purple blanket.

As the grandstand filled, Lance was shoved closer and closer to Keith. He cradled the warm styrofoam cup in his hands and snuggled into the blanket, his prize acting as a comfy backrest. Keith shifted closer yet, his leg pressed tightly against Lance’s and he could smell the cologne the other was wearing. Sure he was wearing cologne himself, but that was because of his date, so it was an odd choice on Keith’s behalf considering this had been a spur of the moment invite. He must have been lounging around, maybe even chilling with Hunk. Which meant that Keith must have invited him to the fair and rushed home to change and put on cologne. He was even freshly showered and Lance knew these were his favourite jeans. He looked good, really good. He’d put effort into his appearance tonight and Lance was just now realizing this. 

Keith had dressed up for him, bought him dinner, and followed him around the fairgrounds. He’d laughed at his jokes and bought him candy apples, hot chocolate, and what was most likely a ridiculously expensive purple blanket. All because Lance had wanted so badly to go. 

He turned to face, ignoring the crash of cars colliding below them, and smiled softly. This was a date and he hadn’t even noticed. Lance smiled and rested his head on Keith’s shoulder, pulling the blanket up higher as he did. 

“You’re missing all the action, Sharpshooter.” Keith’s gravelly voice was so close to his ear and Lance let out a sigh, one that he’d been holding for much longer than he realized. Nyma was an idiot; the fair was a perfect first date.


End file.
